


Contrarium

by blackenedeve



Category: Metallica
Genre: Child Abandonment, Crying, Emotional Intimacy, Friendship, Grieving, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I’ll add if there’s more chapters, M/M, Religious Guilt, Vulnerability, cheap wine and soppiness overload, guys I think James is soft for Lars, intimacy issues, soppy sleepover time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackenedeve/pseuds/blackenedeve
Summary: “We were basically relying on the spiritual power of of the religion to heal us. I wasn’t allowed to learn about the body—so I really felt like a outcast.”
Relationships: James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	1. Emotions are for Pansies.

**Author's Note:**

> Based around the late 70s.  
> James is about 16, going through the motions of a abandoned, broken young man trying to find his feet.  
> Combating trust issues, abandonment issues, f*ck ton of religious guilt and some fluff.

** January 12th 1979 **

“Here’s the n-note sir.”

The blonde walked in class, note in his hand, going over what he’d rehearsed to say vigorously, in order not to trip up his words, not to let the note slip, and not to make any eye contact all at the same time. All of a sudden coordination was a newly discovered concept to James Hetfield.  _ For the love of God, please don’t look at me. _

Mr Falset looked up at James, sneering at him from under his glasses. 

The note was the equivalent to “the dog ate my homework”, but instead of homework—it was a whole class and instead of the dog being the topic of discussion, it was his religion. So it basically sounded like,

“My religion dissolved my invisible allowance to study this class—even though I need it because I want to be on the football team.” 

_ What a mouthful. _

It was James’ attempt to write professionally, like how mother did for his notes not too long ago. However, his chicken scratch writing still remained on the pieces of lined paper.

He could hear other classmates giggling or other classmates failing to keeping their giggles contained. 

He could smell the faint coffee on his teachers wrinkly and tired old skin. 

He could see everybody staring at him from the corners of his big blue eyes.

He could taste the faint blood on his tongue from biting too hard.

He could feel the uneasy tension, as the moths fly about mindlessly in the dark pits of his stomach. 

His senses were being overstimulated, and it was becoming far too overwhelming. A pin drop would probably send him into overdrive.

“Alright James... step outside... we’ll talk about your conditional position in the football team some other time, Okay?”

It stung when the words fell out of the man’s mouth, but James didn’t know what else the teacher was to say. 

He just nodded.

It was like the whole universe expanded, and he was left, helpless and- sinfully... painfully... utterly... small...

No smaller than an atom and no larger than a cell.

His hand trembled his way to his dear friend, the door handle with his uneasy breathing, and saw his way out. The giggles got louder as soon as his sneakers touched the hallway and there it came... there it was... and there it stained him. 

_ The shame._

To prevent any eye contact, he stood away from the door, gawking at the wall that stood in front of him. As he heard Mr Falset announce they were going to be recapping through the first chapter of the term,

‘ _ The Body. _ ’

The thought of hiding in a bathroom stall and jumping down the toilet was an idea writhing in his mind, but he didn’t want to bump into anyone. 

He didn’t know what to do, so he fiddled with a lonely, stranded, piece of string from his jumper. 

The atmosphere was so silent that he could hear his own heartbeat, violating his ears as he stood in the eerily quiet hallway that reeked of sour bleach and old, musky, paper from books. 

_ Pump-pump. _

_ Pump-pump. _

The sound of his aching heart, going hard at work. He could _feel_ it pumping blood.  _ How wrong was it to know what is happening? How my body works? _

_ Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom. _

He was _alive_ , alone and now alienated. He no longer wanted to be that, he wanted to drop _dead_. 

And he thought that this was just God testing his faith. No he didn’t want to go against his mother, and the suspected truth that she fed him. No, he didn’t want or burn in fiery depths of hell.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when, a jingling of keys and a lanyard was coming his way.

“Hetfield? Why are you standing absently outside class?” It was Mrs Joy and her pleasant smell of soft lavender and faint stale cigarettes. Her voice delicately broke in his train of thought. 

_ Talk about bumping into people. _

“I- uh-, m-my mom said that I couldn’t go into and have a physics, um-“ tears were welling up, but Hetfield 1, Emotions Nil. The mighty Het was winning the battle of Emotions. 

_ You sound pathetic James, pull yourself together. _

“Um-, s-she said it goes against our religion” he weakly managed to get out.

She just looked at him, with some kind of pity for the poor boy. She didn’t seem judgemental or asked any more questions, but she did spit out a “it’s alright” and put her soft hand on his shoulder before going on her way.

Before he knew it he was staring at the back of her arms swinging back and forth, and the sound of her high heels drifting further and further away...

The heartbeat in his ears quieted, but he was still confused and painfully small.

_Pfft. The mighty Het doesn’t feel a damn thing._

Questions started to well up as the tears silently fell.

_ Is this a test of faith or public humiliation? _

_ If God exists why do wars and pain exist? _

_ Is seeing really believing? _

_ Is there anyone else in this school that’s doing the same thing? Is there anyone in the world that feels this way? _

The more questions his brain fired, the more guilt was being mass-produced in his mind. 

**_DIIINGGG_**.

Before he knew it, the bell rang. He tried to gather his thoughts, wiped sweat off with the back of his hand,  _like a man_ , and off he went like a wounded soldier, to find some answers for the years to come. He didn’t know it then, but that day sparked an investigation.

If everything we see is true, how do we know exactly what is and isn’t a lie?

_ Seeing is believing? Is it? _

_ Why do I feel so damn guilty? _

And,

_Can I have a hug?_

~

His thoughts were put at a halt once again, as he didn’t realise how long he’d looked down at the dirty tiles beneath his feet as he was walking.

He bumped into his little Danish friend... 

“Heya James! We were learning about how our brai- you okay?” His thick Danish accent was now overpowered by the concern in his voice.

“Conflicted Lars, I feel really conflicted.”

Though they went to the same school, they weren’t in the same classes. Jameshad to use his social skills,  _if he had any._

They walked to an isolated table in a corner. The canteen was screaming with freshmen and seniors. You could smell the semi-processed burgers, and it was visible how the dinner ladies got no joy out of serving bratty teens, in their unfashionable hairnets. 

The smaller boy just sat opposite him. “You gonna get food?” Lars asked, the blonde responded “not really, I want you to eat. _Just don’t leave for too long.”_ He quickly returned to fiddling with his hands against the table quickly bypassing all eye contact.

_Being weak, are we? Oh James, you’re such a pansy._ The voice of Virgil boomed through his head.  _Almost_ sending him into overdrive.

“ _ Emotions are really for pansies and girls, let’s be real here. _ ” James blurted out, two and a half years ago, after Lars had asked if he was ok about the newly felt absence of his father. It wasn’t meant to target Lars. And Lars wasn’t meant to get hurt at the comment, but he did. James felt that he wasn’t allowed to feel real emotion, and it saddened Lars. 

The small, green-eyed, Danish boy was good at was reading when James was feeling vulnerable. When he needed for someone to patch him up. He’d never admit it and neither did James.

If he’d had an injury from playing football, fighting or being clumsy he would nonchalantly say “wow—that’s hurtin' pretty bad”, laugh, figure out where to get patched up, and what he needed. And that was that. 

However, what James had asked of him sounded like a plea, with a lethal amount of  guilt. He knew that James was brought up differently compared to how he was raised in Denmark, but he never proceeded to ask him how and _if_ it affects him after that. 

What James didn’t notice was that Lars staring at him when dipped in his shirt to fetch the petite silver cross that hung from his neck. Glanced at it, his lip succumbed to the quivering then proceeded to sob quietly.

_Done did it now Hetfield_.  The blondes subconscious continued to blabber to him. 

_The mighty Het isn’t so mighty anymore_

He wasn’t gonna leave his dear friend. 

He  reached over to squeeze the hands of the weeping angel in front of him.

“Hey, why don’t ya stay at mine for a while? I can ask _min far_ to pick us up. You don’t have to say anything if ya don’t want to.” His green eyes fixed on the weeping angel and placed some fresh tissues on the table.

His blue-eyed contrasted the puffy redness of his skin. “We could just sit on my floor and listen to Thin Lizzy all night if you want.” Lars declared before switching sides and softly comforted James’ back. “Maybe even look up at the stars, huh?”

He sniffled before he nodded. All sores were open now. Lars was all he had, _he thought the Dane was_ _probably a gift from God_. 

_ He was probably right. _

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gosh. My first actual fic, how daunting.  
> Oh, Hi. Hello. Or in Lars’ language, Hej. Didn’t see ya there. New writer here to spill my ideas into the archive and for you to read! I’m not that good but I’m here to try and improve.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, however, idk if I’ll make this a slow burn fic with a plot. But I’m also happy to leave it as a Drabble. Idk lemme know! <3  
> I’ve got a few of ‘tallica ideas so, look out for em! 
> 
> Also, I’m open to criticism. <3


	2. Cheap Wine and Heavy Metal Lullabies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I bet if my dad saw me he would beat my ass—he would probably burn me alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did hint to you guys about this chapter so, here you go!  
> Also, this is kinda like a filler for somewhat of a plot so, keep looking out for added tags.
> 
> Just a heads up though,  
> I changed the title of the story to fit it better.

There they sat at the edge of the double sized bed. 

The room reeked of B.O and cheap cologne as multiple items of clothing were sprawled across the carpet. You name it, there it was. Boxers, socks, sweatbands, few water bottles with labels James couldn’t read here and there. He couldn't read it, it was in Danish, but he tried. Anything to distract himself from his disoriented mind.

It reeked but he didn’t care.

The mattress creaked as Lars got up.  It was the first noise they heard since they got in the room, besides a few rare sighs.

The smaller boy had got up and swept away all t he debris of clothing and garbage with his hands in one swift motion, making sure that there was a good chunk of empty space in the middle of the room. He dragged himself to his shelves, growing old with grey particles of dust on their surface. Across them were records upon records, all collapsed on each other and Lars picked out one.

He stared at the vinyl, looked up at James who was still staring at his lap, then looked back at the vinyl.

_ I hope this cheers him up. _

He placed the record player in the centre alongside the vinyl and sat in the middle. 

When James heard the thump on the ground he looked up, eyes still worn out but there was a tint of confusion.

“Come join me” Lars said before placing the needle on the record. 

Guitars, bass and drums filled the room before hearing the familiar scream that they’d both recognised. Lars looked up at him and waited in suspense.

“ _Nobody gonna take my car, I’m gonna race it to the gro-ound_ ” Highway star was erupting from the speaker.  James looked up the attention seeking Dane in the centre of the room. He loved Deep Purple, as much as he tried to hide it. He wasn't really supposed to listen to anything but hymns. Though, he would always speak about them any chance Lars gave him. 

So it was no surprise when he smiled, it was just what he needed.

It was what they both needed. Before they knew it James was now on the floor sitting with his small friend. They laid on top of each other, James' head in Lars’ lap while the puny man air drummed whilst staring at the ceiling.

They played the  devil's music from start to finish, and it felt good in each other's company.

~

James’ jumper, tight jeans and duck taped sneakers were now off. Both of them were sitting up against the foot of the bed. James was wearing a t-shirt that was about three sizes too small, for Lars too big. Both in their boxers. It was silent between them, but the music was a substitute for conversation.  They both snacked on potato chips, a new addition to the session that Lars’ father kindly passed to them, and  were three records in with a shift of genre now. Yeah sure, heavy metal was the “hard stuff”, quoted by James. Diamond Head, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath was the ice to their cream. But they both had a soft spot for the New Wave, stuff that was happening in the UK. Lars' family from across the seas always threw money and gifts at him, so new records was a benefit. So, by now there were about three different sub-genres of rock lying on the brunettes carpet.

As The Cure faintly played in the atmosphere, with a hint of reverb from the Danes large messy room, James decided to break the silence with-

“Hey uh, thanks a bunch for lettin’ me crash, uh- here.” The Dane looked up wearing empathy on his smile. “It’s really no problem” he retorted.  They both hadn’t realised how close they shifted.

A relieved smile fell onto James’ lips.  _Well this is new_. 

His heart was going erratic, static and it surely wasn't going to stop. The catalyst surely couldn't of been fear. _Right?_

_ A burning, urging desire? _

He slapped himself out of his thoughts before suggesting about-“that star watchin’?” 

“Ya, uh- lets grab a few blankets. ” They grabbed one each, one to lay on the grass with and another to warm themselves up with. And off they went to see the constellations.

~

They passed Torben nonchalantly painting with the grainy static and white noise making its way through the radio a few times. He’d watched, his tired eyes followed the boys as Lars slid open the garden door.

Lars led them into the centre of the garden and set the blanket on top of the greenery, he thought it would be ideal to have somewhat of a heart-to-heart. You know, try to pry James open. They laid next to each other, the pair of blue and green eyes staring right at the stars above them. 

“There are more stars in the sky than grains in the sand ya know. So imagine what we look like, just _two_ minuscule spirits.” 

" _Really?_ "

"Yup."

His accent filled James’ ears like spilled ink. Lars didn’t want James to feel completely alone, so he emphasised the  two on purpose. 

James turned to the smaller boy and analysed the features. Round pink lips, a nice chiselled nose, perky cheeks and the most gorgeous green eyes. Even in the dark he could see the thickness of his eyelashes. _No wonder he always had a flock of girls._

They were a hair apart as they stared at each other.

The moment was abrupt when Lars jogged back and hopped into the house to get something. _Phew_. He came back out with a bottle of cheap off branded wine, Torben normally gave them the ‘Ok’ as long as it wasn’t anything too strong.

“Here you go” Lars muttered handing over the wine glass to his counterpart. 

Then again they were both lightweights. They knew there were high odds to get hammered over the bottle.  That was the point.

~

_ Belch! _

They were both giggling their asses off over something Lars said. He didn’t _really_ know, he just wanted James to feel comfortable. So he utilized the liquid confidence.

“I bet if my Dad saw me, he would beat my ass” James spat in a drunken state. “Oh yah?” “For sure man. Too bad he left too soon to see his boy drunk on wine, he would probably burn me alive.” _Yikes_. That was what Lars wanted to say, but the Dane didn’t say anything, there was nothing _to_ say for once. He could've continued to babble but he wasn't gonna let this opportunity go. He wanted James to open up. So he rocked the boat and asked the blonde a question.

“ _How do you_ _ really _ _feel James?_ " 

The role model James was supposed to have faded away—without a word, with a note that wasn’t even to him. His mother passed, rejecting help that would’ve put a halt to the train wreck arriving at death's door, instead she attempted to pray the pain away. He watched her hair fall out, the soft delicate voice she used to sing turned hoarse and wretched. And this all happened whilst she was lying in her bed, sitting right next to his bedroom. His siblings hated him, they never said it, but _oh boy_ could be feel the resentment. The worst part about it was that, he had no idea why. His attempts to run away from his siblings were short lived, as they found him on the park bench and dragged him into the car that _still_ lingered with the stench of her _familiar_ perfume. That melancholic feeling was torture but he let them drag him back into the family home.

He realised quick. That house was _not_ a home.

He was stunned. Liquid confidence convert itself into liquid pity, as he stared into the glass as if it were to tell him what to say. 

“I feel Fine.”  _Hiccup_ “I f-feel great.”  _Sniff_

“I feel-“

_ Like I’m going to fall apart? _

“Like I’m going to throw up.”

_Hetfield 2, Emotions Nil, Ulrich foul_.

Getting him to open up was gonna be harder than Lars thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly, didn't expect people to even like the first bit. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed this mess of a filler!
> 
> I'll always be open to criticism and i'll try and serve this story as best as possible!  
> I'll try and stay consistent. And in advance, apologies for the plot to come because I think its a mess-
> 
> <3


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